Like Molasses
by CliffieMaster
Summary: He sees her weakness as her strength, and Elena loves how Rude says her name. ::ElenaRude, Elena-centric:: Oneshot


**~*~Like Molasses~*~**

Cliffie: This was originally going to be very Rude/Elena, but it turns out to be only slight romance. It's very Elena-centric instead, but I can't say I'm upset about it. ^^

The times are a bit screwy with Advent Children, and I realize that completely. Consider that bit just me taking some liberties. :)

Um… this is intended to be a tad choppy. Most of the scenes are relatively short. I'm really experimenting with this piece… ahahah? (I just realized ALL my scene breaks had disappeared... I don't know how long they're been gone, and I apologize profusely since they're quite important to this story...)

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this!

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII, Advent Children, or any of the characters. This is for entertainment purposes only.

* * *

The first thing Elena is aware of upon waking is pain.

It's fierce and consuming, like fire, and races along her veins until it covers every square inch of her being. Her initial instinct is to scream or cry, but months of training have beaten such weak things out of her. So she grits her teeth and tries to ride it out, eyes clenched shut.

A few minutes pass, and the pain becomes bearable. Shuddering slightly, the Turk allows her eyes to drift open to stare at the blank white ceiling above her. Her breathing is rough and too loud in her own ears, but she can't manage to rein it in.

"You're awake?"

She forces herself to turn her head towards the voice. Her hand twitches, automatically inching to where her gun is holstered. To her shock she finds that her gun is gone, and panic immediately fills her.

Ruby red eyes meet hers calmly from beneath dark hair. "It's all right," Vincent Valentine says, voice low and strangely soothing. "You're safe now."

It comes to Elena then: Kadaj. Kadaj and his brothers and pain pain pain – he had hurt her, _tortured_ her, her and Tseng—

"Tseng!"

She shoots up into a sitting position, or at least tries to. Her arm isn't working very well and the minute she puts any weight on it pain ricochets through her shoulder again.

Vincent's suddenly by her side, one hand beneath her back. He gently lays her back down, and Elena can't find the strength to protest.

"Tseng," she says, eyes frantically flickering over the space she could see. "Where's Tseng? Is he okay?" Fear fills her again, thick and heavy and cloying, and she can't breathe and _where is Tseng?_

"He's right over there," Vincent responds, nodding over to Elena's left. She struggles to see, but can't sit up again. Vincent gently slips an arm beneath her shoulders and holds her up, obviously realizing that she won't be still until she sees for herself that Tseng was okay. He lies on his bed, silent and pale and breathing shallowly, but he's alive. Wonderfully, beautifully alive, and Elena can breathe again.

"You saved us?" she murmurs once she's flat on her back again, staring up at Vincent with clouded eyes.

He nods once. "Yes."

She tries to smile, but the muscles on her face aren't working too well, and she ends up crying instead. "Thank you," she whispers as she raises a bandaged hand to scrub furiously at the wetness.

Turks don't cry, after all.

* * *

She sits up by herself a day later, even though it hurts her ribs and shoulder and hips. Vincent makes her keep her right arm tight against her side, and she follows his instructions without argument, knowing he's only trying to heal her the best he can. She sits on the edge of her bed, leaning lightly against the headboard with her good side, and stares at Tseng's bed. He still hasn't woken up and it's starting to really worry her, despite Vincent saying it was only because he had suffered a concussion and would be out for a while.

She wants more than anything to sit on his bed, where she can be sure the rising of his chest isn't a trick of his eyes, but she can't walk and Vincent's gone to get them food. Loz had put a bullet through her left kneecap, completely shattering it, and it would take a while for it to heal. Vincent had given her potions to numb the pain and start the healing process, but her knee would need a lot more than a single potion.

A soft moan, and every hair on her body rises. She sits up straight, leans forward eagerly, hands shaking as she wonders if it was merely her imagination. Then Tseng moves a bit, his eyes fluttering as they try to open, and she's up suddenly, forgetting about her leg and the pain. Her knee immediately gives out, and she hits the floor heavily. The pain is nearly enough to knock her unconscious, but she stubbornly drags herself over to Tseng's bed, where she hangs useless, hands frantically gripping one of Tseng's.

He opens his eyes and stares at her. "Elena," he whispers, voice rough and curious and afraid.

She nods and the damnable tears are back again, but this time she manages to keep them at bay. "Yes," she responds, clutching his hand tightly.

A soft chuckle, and his fingers curl around her own weakly. Tseng was never much for signs of devotion or affection.

"We're alive," he whispers, eyes shining like it's some kind of great feat.

And, suddenly, Elena realizes that it _is_ a great feat to still be alive. So she grins, and nods, and rests her head on his arm because it's starting to pound and blur with pain.

"Yes. We are."

* * *

She's in worse condition than Tseng, and he's up and around within a few days, moving with relative ease. Because of her moving and injuring her knee even further, Elena is confined to her bed. Her body's never done well with potions or healing, anyway, and she knows it will be a long, arduous process until she's up to her old self again.

Besides her kneecap and arm, she has lacerations on over a third of her body, including a few deep gashes on her ribs. Kadaj had tortured her first, believing that because she was female she would crumple more easily. When he found that his assumption was certainly not the case, he had moved to Tseng. She had lasted one day of seeing the man tortured before giving in. Tseng doesn't say anything, blame or otherwise, and Elena can't feel guilty about her decision. She's glad she saved Tseng from more hurt.

Vincent cares for them without complaint. They're in a small house near the forest where Aeris died, and Elena makes Vincent carry her outside every day to get fresh air. He doesn't seem to mind, at least, but Elena doesn't care either way.

After a week, Elena can hobble around on her own, although she has to use crutches and is tired easily. Her leg hurts almost constantly, even with the potions, and she has scars crisscrossing her ribs now. She tries to work her leg and arm as much as possible, but Vincent soon tells her to slow down. She'll only hurt herself further the way she's going, he says, and she resents him for that. She wants to be gone from this tiny village, back with Rufus and Reno and Rude. She knows things are bad – far worse than anyone could have thought – and she hates herself for being so injured as to not be able to help them.

Vincent starts making her dance every morning and evening. The motions are easy on her body but help with her leg, and she gracelessly stumbles through the steps, clutching at an exasperated Tseng who is just as bad as she, if not worse. Vincent even becomes her partner sometimes, softly guiding her through the dances, and he's surprisingly good. Only it's not surprising, really, because he's so graceful all the time.

She grows fond of the ex-Turk. He's brooding and silent, but it's not like Elena isn't used to that type of man. Tseng, Rufus, and Rude aren't exactly the talkative type; only Reno, and half the things that come out of his mouth anyway are only fit for a drunk ladies' man. So she talks instead, babbling away until Tseng rolls his eyes and Vincent smiles a bit, obviously amused. When he gives her that look she blushes and stares at the floor. She's always talked too much too quickly, and it's a wonder that anyone can put up with her.

* * *

It's difficult to live in a two-room house with two men. Elena's used to tight quarters and all men, but this is something else, especially for the first few days when she can't even move enough to bath without help. It's like hell on earth, and Elena wishes for her own shower back home with her rose-scented soap. She hates the soap Vincent has, especially since Tseng and said man use the same bar. It makes her cringe a bit, but she never complains, knowing it's ungrateful and mean and petty of her.

Still, she wishes she had her rose soap and washcloth and a shower by herself instead of a bathtub in the same room as two men.

* * *

When Vincent finally says she is strong enough to return to their hideout, she nearly cries for joy.

They make good time, moving swiftly. Elena pushes past the pain in her knee. It's something she's learned to do for years as Turk, and it's no different now. Her other wounds have healed, and her arm is the same as it used to be. Her aim isn't off anymore, but she can't walk without a limb now. Tseng told her she would probably always have it, at least a little, and the thought is depressing enough to make her scowl for the rest of the day. But she can still walk and shoot, and that's really all that's needed right now. She'll come to other things later, when she's faced with them. She won't think of them now when it'll only upset her.

The sight of the hideout makes her chest swell until she nearly can't breathe. Even Tseng looks happy, or at least as happy as Tseng can be. Elena's learned to read him over the years, and he's positively beaming as he strides towards the door.

Elena stops and turns and jerks when she can't find Vincent. "Thank you!" she calls, somewhat uselessly.

There's a soft breeze by her cheek, and a flash of red, and she knows that Vincent heard her.

"Tseng!" she hears Reno yell joyfully.

She faces the hideout again, a grin already on her face at the sound of the silly redhead. The man looks positively out of his mind with happiness, nearly jumping up and down as he circles Tseng, checking every inch of him. "I knew you'd be okay," he says, nodding confidently.

Rufus comes forward to stare at Tseng, one eyebrow raised. The man shakes his head slightly, and Rufus sighs.

"Heeey…" Reno stops, eyes wide and horrified. "Where's 'Lena?"

He sounds so terrified that Elena melts. He's always been an ass for the most part, but every now and then he acts like this: sweet and soft and so kind she could cry.

"I'm right here," she says, walking forward and trying not to wince. Her leg hurts after such a long day, but she doesn't want Reno to notice, not when he's so worried about her.

He lets out a yelp upon seeing her and rushes down to grab her in a bone-crushing hug. He spins her, and she laughs and buries her face in his shoulder and clings to him as tightly as she knows how. When he sets her back down her knee nearly buckles, but she clutches Reno and manages to keep her feet.

"You okay?" he whispers, still gentle and kind.

She smiles up and nods. "Yeah."

He helps her inside, keeping one arm around her shoulder even though he doesn't mention her limp. Reno's sharp, even though he often doesn't seem to be. Rufus notices immediately as well, eyes flickering briefly over her body and pausing on her left leg. He raises an eyebrow, asking a silent question.

"I'm fine," she says as bravely as she can, chin up and lips firm.

He accepts her answer and nods.

Rude is waiting just inside, hands clasped in front of him. He looks over them both, giving them small nods that don't really mean anything except that he's glad to have them back. A rush of affection for the tall man overwhelms Elena. She's so happy to be back with them – with all of them – that she wonders how any other life could ever be possible.

* * *

Her room looks impossibly big compared to the room she shared with Tseng and Vincent. She snuggles down in her bed for a minute, head buried in her pillow and breathing in the wonderfully _clean_ scent before a soft knock draws her attention away.

She sits up, smiling bashfully and beckoning for Rude to come in. "It's nice to be here again," she says, somewhat confidentially as she pulls the pillow to her chest and hugs it tightly. "It's clean." She laughs, knowing she sounds silly and giddy and girly and unable to help it.

Rude smiles slightly at her as he stands there, hands in his pockets and head titled down. "How are you?" he asks, voice a soft, deep rumble.

He never speaks more than necessary, and Elena likes that of him. He lets her talk as much as she wants and didn't make her feel like an idiot, like Tseng and Rufus sometimes inadvertently do. And Vincent now, she supposes.

"I'm okay," she says. The phrase is starting to sound stale, but her tongue knows the words so well by now that it isn't hard to say them anymore.

She can't see his eyes from behind his sunglasses. Gradually, over the time she has known him, it has become a fixture of Rude that was _only_ Rude, no matter how strange and juvenile that sounds.

"Your leg?"

Elena glances down at it, scowling slightly. "The bastards shattered the kneecap," she says, knowing that he is partially asking what happened to it. "I'm trying to get it up to snuff slowly." She gives an uncomfortable shrug. "It's okay."

He gives her a look that says he doesn't believe she's telling the truth, and Elena wonders how Rude can read her so completely and utterly when no one else can.

* * *

She slips the first time she's in the shower, loses her footing because of her bad knee and falls heavily, hitting her back and head. Her knee throbs, along with the rest of her, and she lays at the bottom of the shower for a full minute, struggling to get enough air to lungs as the hot water hits her prone body.

It's hard to get up, and it takes three tries before she's firmly on her feet again. She washes slowly, trying not to rush anything and risk another fall. But her soap is still rose and so sweet, and that makes everything okay.

* * *

She realizes her problem almost immediately.

She had thought it would leave her, now that she's back in her home in her own bed with her soap that smells like roses. But no, the damnable thing won't leave, and Elena wakes up in the middle of the night panting and crying and _hurting_ again. She lies still for a minute, staring up at the ceiling as her chest balloons rapidly. She blinks and tries to banish the images of the three silver-haired men from her mind, but it doesn't work. It doesn't work, and she can't stand to be alone.

When the dreams came before, it was okay because Tseng and Vincent were in the room, and their breathing and snores filled it to the point of being suffocating. But their snores said they were there and she was protected.

There are no snores now, and Elena feels horribly, terribly exposed. It's like she's back in that damn cave, back in that chair, strapped down and fuzzy with pain and covered with blood and the three are just grinning at her, waiting for her to become more coherent so they can start again.

They are her demons, and she can't stand to be alone.

She's out of her bed before she can think to stop. She doesn't bother with a robe; her pajamas are down-to-earth and of thick linen, and much of her modesty has been beaten to death in the past few days.

She leaves quickly, walking as swiftly as she can. She's halfway to Tseng's room before she freezes and reconsiders. Tseng wouldn't be the person to go to. No, no, definitely not Tseng. Not anymore. So she rocks back on her heels, wondering where the hell to go.

It hits her suddenly, like a firebolt, and she hurries down the hallway.

Once before his door, she pauses, again rocking, and stares at the entrance with flickering eyes. Part of her says it's stupid to do this, immature of baby-Elena, but the fear is still inside her, pulsing fiercely with each beat of her heart.

"I am weak," she says to herself, hating it and unable to fix it.

She raises her fist and knocks gently. She doesn't just go in, because he's a Turk and would most likely attack before asking questions. She would do the same thing.

The door opens, and Rude stands there, confused and bleary-eyed with sleep. He blinks at her, baby-blue eyes taking her off guard as always. She tries to smile at him, coming up with only a slight grin. She shifts, hands nervously clasped behind her.

"I'm sorry," she says before he can speak. "I-I know I shouldn't be doing this. It's silly. But…" She looks up, somewhat pleadingly. "Can I stay in your room tonight? I-I'll sleep on the chair, or even on the floor, but I-I just can't be by myself right now. Please, Rude?"

He's obviously surprised, and she absently notes that he should be without his sunglasses more: he looks good without them, and she loves his eyes.

"Tseng?"

She blinks at the sound of his voice and stares at the ground again. "I can't," she says. Nothing more; just those two little words. Tseng might have been there with her, but she can't bring herself to go to him, because he would tell her she's silly and stupid and cowardly, and she can't take that right now. She's weak, and she can't take Tseng.

"Reno?"

Elena snorts at this. "He wouldn't stop hitting on me," she says, a grin raising one side of her mouth. "Besides, he'd never let me forget it, and I know he would somehow let it slip to Rufus. And I don't really fancy Rufus – or Tseng – knowing about this." _My weakness._

And he stares at her, as if trying to figure out what she's about, and Elena can't quite meet his eyes.

Then he steps away, opening the door and allowing her entrance. She looks up, cheeks red with shame, but smiles at him.

"And you don't have to sleep on the floor or chair," he says once she's inside and the door is closed again. "The bed's fine for two."

Her initial reaction is embarrassment, but Rude acts so calm, so at ease, that she can't help but feel fine with the whole damn situation. She lies on the soft bed on her right side, because it puts too much pressure on her knee if she lays on her left. She's facing Rude, and can see his broad back rise and fall steadily as he breathes in and out, in and out.

She smiles and closes her eyes.

* * *

Rufus is in danger.

He's falling, falling away, shooting calmly and looking like he isn't worried at all. Elena feels her heart constrict tightly.

If he falls, will she die?

He's everything to her, in a way much different than she normally views "everything." Because of him, she has her life. Because of him, she's happy and content and knows the best people in the world.

And if he dies, everything will die with him.

She jumps at the same time Tseng does. There's no time for fear, no _room_ for such a silly emotion. She's cool and calm and her legs hurts but it doesn't bother her. Kadaj is here, with his brothers, but she's okay this time, mostly because she has to be. Rufus needs her, and she can't let him die.

Her aim is perfect, and Tseng… well, Tseng never settles for anything less than perfection.

Rufus lives, and Elena is saved as well.

* * *

They drink that night, guzzling beer and wine and whiskey at Tifa's bar. The bartender happily lets them, unable to keep from smiling the entire time. All of her old comrades are here as well – their comrades, Elena realizes, looking up to meet Vincent's eyes. She smiles at him, and he returns it slightly.

"Hey, 'Lena," Reno says, slinging an arm over her shoulder and breathing alcohol into her face. "What say the two of us go off by ourselves, eh?"

She laughs as she picks his arm off her shoulders and scoots away. "I'm not that drunk, Reno," she responds, still chuckling, "and I doubt I'll ever be. Go hit on someone else."

So he staggers over to Tifa, who sends Elena a dirty look. The Turk grins and raises her beer mug in silent approval.

* * *

Elena sits silently in Rude's room, her left leg up on the bed as she tends to her knee. It's swollen and purple and ugly, but it's better than she had been expecting. Rude lounges next to her, reading silently. He doesn't care that she spends more time in his room now than his own, even with Kadaj and the others gone now.

He doesn't care, and doesn't say anything, and Elena loves him for that.

She hears a soft crash from the hallway, and both of them rise immediately. Rude grabs his gun, and Elena slowly moves to the door, peeking out carefully as she wonders how everything could go wrong so quickly yet again.

But it isn't her weakness – not Kadaj, or Loz, or Yazoo – but Reno and Tifa.

Elena blinks, then closes the door, biting back her laughter.

Rude gives her a curious look, and she just shakes her head. "I wonder what Rufus will say?" she murmurs as she limps back to the bed, still laughing a bit.

Reno and Tifa, huh? Well, stranger things have happened before.

* * *

She wakes gasping and sobbing, one hand immediately rising to try and stifle her cries.

"They're dead."

She closes her eyes, not wanting to see Rude. "I know," she whispers. "I know."

She can't stop shaking, and Elena wishes she was stronger.

He gently touches her hair, hand sliding down the short locks. She stiffens in surprise, and he seems just as hesitant as her, fingers so soft they're almost not there at all.

Elena sighs, shoulders slowly relaxing.

Everybody thinks Rude's stuck up and a hardass because he never talks. Elena knows the truth. She knows that he's gentle and kind and soft-spoken. He's not cruel or mean or any of those things. He's the most gentle of the Turks, the kindest, only he doesn't know how to express himself as well as others.

But that's okay.

He's still Rude: gentle, beautiful in his own way, Rude.

* * *

Elena puts the music on, wincing when it comes out blaring. She quickly turns the volume down, smiling bashfully at Rufus and the others. Her superior looks distinctly annoyed, but he's still here, in the middle of the largest room they have, agreeing that they can take a day off after the Geostigma events. She immediately jumps at the opportunity to dance again; she's grown quite fond of it since Vincent.

"I don't see why we have to do this," Reno moans from one corner. He holds his head in his head, obviously regretting all the alcohol from last night. Tifa stands by his shoulder, leaning against the wall and watching with a smile on her face. She's embarrassed to be here, Elena knows, but no one says anything, and Tifa stays.

"Because it's fun," Elena retorts, glaring mildly at the redhead.

He snorts and rolls his eyes.

"Come on, come on!" she begs, bounding up to Tseng and looking up at him imploringly. He sighs heavily, shoulders drooping a bit. She takes that as a sign of agreement and immediately pulls him out to the middle of the floor.

He's graceless as always, and Elena laughs at his incompetence because it's really the only thing she _can_ laugh at him about. Damnable man.

Rufus sits and watches them, looking mildly amused and no longer annoyed. Tifa eventually gets Reno up and dancing, and the two make a dashing couple. They're good, so good that Elena and Tseng stop to stare in open-mouthed amazement.

While she's paused, she feels a soft tap on her shoulder. Turning, she beholds Rude, smiling slightly at her and offering a hand.

She eagerly takes it. He's warm and solid and smiling at her, and he's a much better dancer than Tseng. He's beautiful, too, in a unique way that's only Rude. Graceful and powerful and sweet, and that makes him beautiful in her eyes.

* * *

Elena wonders what it would be like to kiss Rude.

It's a strange thing to think about, she admits to herself. She sits and watches him move as he practices hand-to-hand combat with Reno, and the longer she stares the more she wonders.

She's kissed before, of course. She once kissed Tseng, when she found him wonderfully alive at the Temple of the Ancients. She had kissed him when he walked up to her, bleeding and broken but alive, kissed him right on the mouth. He told her never to do such a stupid thing like that again in the coldest voice she's ever heard, and she lost all infatuation she had before with the man. It wasn't because he had rejected her; she had always known in some part of her heart that he would never love her. It was because he called her kiss stupid and, if nothing else, Elena was a romantic.

Reno's kissed her before, too, more than once. He's hot and fiery and demanding, and Elena hates it. She doesn't want that kind of kiss – she wants slow and gentle and hesitant. Sweet. She doesn't like Reno that way, anyhow, and now he has Tifa.

She sits and stares at Rude, and thinks that perhaps he would be the kind of kisser she likes, because he's sweet all the time.

It wouldn't be a bad thing to kiss him, she muses as she watches his fluid movement. In fact, she thinks she might enjoy it.

* * *

"Why didn't you go to Tseng?"

She's in his room again, has never really left. It's not night; she can sleep by herself now, although she doesn't really like to. She spends more time than before in Rude's room, doing little things that she could do anyplace else.

She looks up, sees him watching her intently from behind his sunglasses. She sighs, fingers fiddling with the gun she holds in her lap.

"Because he's stronger than me and I couldn't face that," she finally blurts out. Sweet release fills her, and she's glad it's Rude to whom she confessed. "I'm not strong," she continues, rubbing the soft cloth over the gun barrel. "I'm weak and afraid and Tseng is everything I'm not when we face the same damn things. So I couldn't cope with him, knowing he had survived so much better than I had."

Rude doesn't come to her. He doesn't hug her, or kiss her, or even stroke her hair. He stands across from her, watching her from behind sunglasses. Then he takes them off and stares directly at her with his baby-blue eyes.

"Tseng isn't stronger than you, Elena," he finally says.

She's so shocked that she stares at him open-mouthed, the gun forgotten in her hands. He doesn't say anymore, or explain his words, but she can read him, has always been able to read him perfectly just like he can read her. She's strong because she's admits to being weak, he says without words. She's strong because she doesn't rely entirely on herself. She's strong because she's Elena, and that's who Elena is. She's strong and wonderfully talkative and emotional in a good way, the way that says she's true and solid and everything else. Beautiful, and he likes being around her because she doesn't make him to be something else, something that he isn't, and he appreciates that – appreciates her – more than he will ever say aloud.

Rude smiles.

* * *

Elena can count the times Rude has said her name on two hands. And she really can, because she remembers every instance. She's strange like that, and she doesn't want to forget such things.

But she doesn't count how many times Reno calls her 'Lena, or how many times Tseng or Rufus or anyone else says her name. Only Rude.

Perhaps it's because Rude uses her name so much less than the others. More likely, however, it's because she likes the way her name sounds on his voice: soft and quiet and _pretty_ when she's never thought of her name as pretty before.

She likes how Rude makes her feel. She's his comrade, most definitely, but he doesn't seem to hate spending time with her. She likes being treated with such gentility, such softness. Rude is soft and sweet, like molasses, and Elena thinks his kisses would be too.

The next time he says her name, she decides as she watches him drink his beer, she'll kiss him. Just because she can, and because she wants to know if he's really the kind of a kisser she imagines him to be.

And, just perhaps, she'll kiss him because she wants to.

* * *

Cliffie: And that's done! I'm not quite sure how much I like it; I think I do. Or parts of it, at least. Hopefully it's good… heh. Elena was very fun to write for; if her character isn't quite right, then I'll only say this is my first time using her at all, and I wrote her how I think of her.

Thanks for reading, and please review!


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